


everything’s feeling different now

by a_gently_faded_rainbow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beaches, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Hair Kink, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Tickling, cake can be a sign of emotional maturity if you want it to he, harry and louis are a mess, harry has a hair kink and everyone knows it, i wrote this at 1 am and you can tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_gently_faded_rainbow/pseuds/a_gently_faded_rainbow
Summary: Louis buries his feelings, Harry bullies him into admitting them through the power of sexy floral swim trunks and therapy. Sex happens and they talk a lot! Hey guys you’re actually having sex maybe lay off the teasing?If you’re wondering about the ratio of angst to happy; enjoy some lines from my phone call with a friend while writing this.“ Shit I forgot to write a condom!”“Should I preface it with a blowjob or just jump straight into anal sex?”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 15





	everything’s feeling different now

If you’d asked at 18, Louis wouldn’t have predicted this. Sure, he knew enough about life, management and lies, and Harry, to know they weren’t ever going to have a relationship like their stupid boy band songs. Still, this, him sitting knees to chest in a hotel bathrobe at the foot of Harry’s beach chair, Harry above him sprawled out in floral trunks trying to look elegant and mostly looking like a deflated car tire mascot, the fact that he nonetheless couldn’t look away, he wouldn’t ever have though they’d be like this. Maybe the last part, Harry’d always caught his attention like a fish on a hook, but. But. But not this, the moments they could steal in between tour dates and press conferences, the fact that it’d been 13 months since they’d last properly seen each other and he felt like neither of them were recognizable anymore. 

Something in Harry was stronger, sharper, like his personality had clarified along with his jawline into something women pined over instead of teenage girls. Louis was stuck performing in a one man boy band while Harry did shrooms and sexy music videos. So it had been tense. 

Tense like they’d only been in Hawaii a day and already something was broken that he couldn’t fix with all the super glue in the world. Tense like he’d woken up to Harry’s meet me on the beach text and he’d had to wander around for a good ten minutes because it wasn’t exactly a small beach. Tense like he’d found Harry sipping fruity drinks that were more liquor than orange juice with his earbuds in, and they hadn’t spoken since. Harry had just given him that confused, concerned expression that his family, his small group of friends, always gave him. The look you get tired of seeing after the tenth time. 

Fuck. “Harry?’

Harry was at least kind enough to pull the earbuds out and feign interest. “What’s up?”

“Wanna get lunch?”

“Sure. Lou? Are you…”

“I’m fine. Burgers sound good?”

“How about avocados?”

“You’re a bastard you know that?”

“You love me.”

“Mm.”

“Louis, really. I’m wor-”

“If you say you’re worried about me, I will murder you Harry.”

“Concerned. I’m concerned about you. I’ve heard bad things about your management.”

“You and half of all teenage girls. I’m fine.”

“Could join me. It’d be just like old times.” 

“Cause those were so great.”

“You know they say sarcasm is a warning sign of depression.”

“I’m not depressed.” 

“Denial’s the first stage my dear.” 

“Are you therapizing me?” 

“Therapy’s not as bad as you make it out to be.’

“Who needs therapy when I’ve got you?”

“You do have me. You have me.”

So they skip lunch. And this part, this is predictable and familiar and goddamn therapeutic. Lying on Harry’s bed, because anywhere he eats and sleeps and breathes is more home than anywhere Louis does those things, both of them staring up at the ceiling with their hands so tightly linked that Harry’s knuckles are white. Harry’s playing some lo-fi soundtrack that he swears just melts away your worries, and it doesn’t, it definitely totally doesn’t but the rise and fall of Harry’s chest like a symphony erases room for anything but this. 

It became routine, when they first lived together and it was Harry that needed comfort. He’d been the one crawling into Louis’s room at night then, and it had been this, just this. Both of them synchronizing their breaths until they were almost the same person. 13 months, he thinks, is too long to go just being yourself. He can’t breathe quite the same without Harry. It’s what had made his stupid fantasy music video all the more...not stupid. He turns on his side to face Harry and there’s a faint trail of tears there. He wipes them away before he can think, knows it’s foolish the moment he meets Harry’s cheek. 

The way Harry flinches away, that’s unpredictable too. He doesn’t say anything, just shutters up his eyes like a store past closing hours and takes a deep breath like he’s breaking their ritual on purpose. 

“You can’t do that to me, Louis.”

“Do what?”

“Fucking disappear for a year and then come back and act like everything’s fine, like you’re not putting yourself on like a skin suit at interviews, like your dad didn’t call me asking if I knew what was wrong, which of course I didn’t because you won’t talk to anyone but you’ll do this, which isn’t healthy, never has been. I know you do it so you can pretend you aren’t somebody, but you are. You’re someone to me and I want you back, you, not this ghost that’s pretending. I wasn’t kidding when I said you could join me.”

“You know I can’t. You know why I can’t.”

“Do I? Cause all you ever said was that we had problems, but you won’t tell me what they were and you won’t let me fix them and I hate watching you do this, watching you be what we said we wouldn’t ever be.” 

It would’ve been better if Harry slapped him in the face, because he knows exactly what he’s talking about, down to the night and the time and the brand of microwave burrito they’d eaten beforehand. Both of them promising they’d still be themselves, wouldn’t be one of those dead at 27 washed up pop stars whose parents didn’t recognize them. It hurts all the more because his mum had made practically the same speech, towards the end, because his friends have been hinting at the same thing. 

“...That’s not fair, Harry, you know it isn’t.”

“Stop telling me what I know. I don’t know goddamn anything Louis because you won’t tell me.”

Harry’s voice raises a little at the end and Louis might think he was angry if he didn’t recognize the faint waver that suggests he’s moments from tears. He’s sitting up, pulling Harry’s body into him, and Harry’s too long and awkward and crying for it to be considered a hug, but it’s enough for him to rub circles into Harry’s back and smell his cologne in a way that is perhaps selfish and pray to an uncertain god that they find a way through this. Whatever this is. 

Harry’s voice is muffled by Harry’s shoulder and stubborn when he speaks. “We didn’t get lunch.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Hungry for answers!”

“Why are you off-brand Batman?”

“Why are you so stupid? Fucking stupid tiny British wanker.”

“We are...both British.”

“You’re the stupid kind of British.”

“So do you want lunch then?” 

“Just this. Please.”

“Please is better. Please is what you’re supposed to say when someone’s got you in their arms.” 

“Could’ve had me in your arms a year ago.”

“Thirteen months.”

“What?”

“It’s been 13 months.”

The soft little pleased hum Harry gives could make a weaker man fall in love. Louis doesn’t even know what it does to him. 

“You’ve been keeping track?”

“Of course. I think about you so much you don’t even know. I’ll be lying in a shitty tour bus bed wishing you were right above me tossing around making enough noise to wake the dead.”

“Could’ve lead with that instead of ‘I’m fine Harry, everything’s great and awesome!’”

“Harry much as I’d love to respond to your lovely teasing, I can hear your stomach. Can we please order room service?”

“I want cake.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“No you cannot have cake for lunch. I’m the stupid one?”

“Eating cake as a meal is a very healthy behavior! Shows emotional maturity.”

“No one clinging to my shirt like a koala gets to claim they’re mature.”

“You’d prefer I do this?”

Harry has always been good at tickling. He knows everyone of Louis’ sensitive spots and exploits them. Louis writhes around under him laughing uncontrollably until he can finally flip Harry over and sit on his stomach. They stay there for a moment before the delicate soap bubble between them bursts and Louis is diving down to meet Harry’s lips. Harry huffs a protest but he’s smiling into the kiss and they could spend forever like this, just Harry’s little noises because even now he can’t shut up, can’t stop being himself. 

Much as he’d like to keep hearing those noises, he’s distracted by Harry’s stomach. 

“Christ Harry, didn’t you have breakfast?” 

“Beach is better than breakfast.”

“Mr motivational t-shirt man.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Because your stomach is a bear underneath me?”

“And you’re the bear on top of me.”

“I don’t think I count as a bear.” 

“Don’t ruin my excellent flirting.”

“Don’t think you need to flirt with someone who’s already kissing you.”

“A, you have no appreciation for the subtle art of romance and B, you aren’t kissing me.”

“Yep. I’m getting food. Pancakes?”

“Pancakes are hardly better than cake!”

“I’m indulging you.”

“Good.”

“Shall we occupy ourselves while we wait?”

“Can you imagine the scandal if we were caught? ‘Louis Tomlinson, renowned heterosexual, caught in bed with former boy band buddy.”

“I live for the day they write buddy in the news.”

“And I live for the day when we can just make music without worrying about the news.”

“Gonna live forever then.”

“That’s the plan.”

They end up just sitting on the bed playing Go Fish until their food arrives, stupidly fancy pancakes with blackberry compote that are another reminder of how much has changed. Harry licks syrup off his lips with his eyes closed and the more things change, the more they stay the same. 

“Harry Edward Styles, you have gotten syrup on the blanket!”

“Guess we’ll have to switch to your room.”

“The tip I’ll have to leave this place…”

So they go to Louis’ room, which is a mess, and that’s stayed the same too. Harry tosses a pile of clothes to the floor so he can flop on the bed. 

“Hey! Those were clean.”

“This room is a war zone.”

“You’re a war zone.”

“Not yet.”

“That was awful Harry, awful.”

He winks. “Is it working?”

“Mmmmm. You better convince me.”

So he brackets Harry with his body and it’s the two of them again, only them. Harry grabs at Louis’ shirt and arches his back upwards and does everything in his power to make Louis break, or it feels like that, his noises desperate and gasping as Louis kisses his neck, his chest, would explore his whole body like Mount Everest if Harry didn’t sound so wrecked when he spoke. 

“Louis, you’ve got me all wound up for months and months, do something.” 

So he pulls Harry’s swim trunks off, and stupidly forgets that obviously he’s not wearing underwear so he’s just there, half hard and flushed and teasing the tip of his cock with his tongue is the most natural thing in the world. Harry growls and grabs his hair and of course, Louis lets him. Harry’s gentle but firm and so he pulls off. 

“Your thing, not mine Hazza.”

Harry blanches. “Sorry.”

“S’alright. I like it when you tell me what you like.”

“I like when you suck my cock.”

“Thatta boy.”

So he dives back in and Harry’s hands are soft now, more cradling his head than controlling him but it still does something to him, the sharp inhale signaling that Harry’s right there, and he pulls off. 

“Thought I said not to tease me.”

“Mm you said to do something. I was going to let you fuck me, but if you don’t want to…”

Harry’s grin is eager and lovable and perfect. “Oh! Oh, right. I don’t have...anything.” 

“Suitcase, front pocket.”

“You get it.”

“Yessir.”

So Louis grabs the lube and hands it over and Harry can be smooth sometimes, with that little cheeky smile and his fingers coated in it. He’s never prepared for Harry’s hand on his hip to steady him and one finger working into him slow and careful and practiced. Harry’s memorized the angles of his body and yet it’s always a little different, the same steps of the waltz to a different song. There’s a second finger before he knows it and he’s digging fingernail crescent moons into Harry’s chest, right above the swallows like a sky full of stars they can swim in. 

Harry kisses his collarbone and sucks a mark just above it. 

“Ready?”

Louis has never been more ready for anything in his life, not concerts or dates or Christmas morning. He grabs the condom and rolls it onto Harry with shaking hands. “Ready.”

And then it’s Harry pushing into him with that hand pressing bruises into his hip and Harry’s eyes flutter closed. 

“God, Lou, you oughta come around a little more.”

“If it’s like this…”

“It’s like this.”

“I’ll come around more.” 

Harry stops moving. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I’ll try to mean it. I’ll mean it. I’m tired of it not being you beside me.”

Harry thrusts up into him rough then, like he doesn’t usually. “You been letting other people wake up next to you?”

“They don’t stay the night.”

“Wonder what it’d feel like, loving someone and having them walk out right as the rest of your world is falling apart.”

“Harry I-”

“No, that wasn’t fair. It was your world too.” 

“You talk too much.”

So Harry flips him over and fucks him quick and strong and just stares at him until Louis meets his eyes and Harry leans into his ear. His breath is hot and vaguely syrup scented as he whispers. “Hey, touch yourself for me?”

Louis doesn’t have to touch himself long before he’s coming over his hand and Harry waits like a perfect gentleman, keeps his strokes slow but it’s clear he was on the edge because it doesn’t take much for him either. He slips out and tosses the condom in the direction of the trash can, pulls Louis close to him and they lie there with Louis tracing the butterfly and Harry scratching his back lazily, because afterwards it’s Harry taking care of him, Harry who brings water and a smile to his lips, Harry who drags them to the shower and frets over the darkening hickey on Louis’s neck, and Harry who makes the bed and sets the alarm and makes everything right.

There’s conversations they need to have later. Later, they’ll find their way back to each other, Louis back to himself. Now though, they fall asleep at 4 pm with the sound of each other’s breath, slightly different and nonetheless comforting.

**Author's Note:**

> hi louis’ behaviors in this fic are not healthy! please don’t rely on other people to help you with your mental health, and don’t suppress your emotions, and don’t have important conversations in the middle of sex. this is FUN, do not take me ad a role model. as always, feel free to contact me on tumblr @disastroids to chat ships, mental health, or just have fun.


End file.
